I Do It For You
by tccarty
Summary: A retelling of the mage's background storyline with an Anders friendship. Non-canon. Continued through Ostagar. Warden/Alistair romance.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimers: Dragon Age and all of its characters belong to bioware and ea.  
Also, the names Nynaeve and Min belong to the estate of Robert Jordan, the author of the Wheel of Time fantasy series.**_

**Author's Note: This fic is a retelling of the mage's background storyline. And may be a prologue to a longer fic in the future. It is only seven chapters and is finished. I will post every other day on a Friday-Monday-Wednesday schedule.**

**There have been a few changes to canon as well. In my fic the Warden and Hawke are sisters. Also, I have added Anders to the Tower in place of Jowan. Though, this is not nor will it be a romance between the Warden and Anders.**

* * *

The first time Nynaeve saw her father do magic, the first time she ever saw anyone do magic, she was six. At the time there had only been the three of them, her parents and herself, and another on the way. They had been in the small farming town long enough that Nyn remembered no other. It was home.

The cat was to blame. Flower, the unlucky tom had been named when Nyn found him two years before eating her mother's beloved roses. He was an old and ugly stray, more likely to hiss than purr at her touch, but some days, most days, he was the only friend she had.

That day the young Nyn had gotten into a fight with her mother over the new baby, still in her stomach, though, ready to burst out of it by the look of it. Her mother told her father that Nyn was jealous. Her father told her mother that she would get over it. While they spoke quietly, though not quietly enough for snooping ears, Nyn ran out of the tiny house with angry tears streaking down her face.

She had a temper that she had not outgrown, much to her parents' disappointment. She angrily kicked small rocks out of her way. And when she spotted a flock of blackbirds, she picked a larger stone and threw it towards them with a speed and strength her father would have been proud of. They only flew off however, leaving her unfulfilled.

Nyn saw the cat on the road and called to him. She used her 'nice' voice, the one that often fooled her father, though never her mother. And apparently not Flower either, for he ran from her.

She followed quickly behind, kicking at the dirt. But he escaped by climbing up a tree. Nyn kicked at the trunk. Stupid mangy thing! She called him, words she often heard her mother use for the cat. Why didn't he like her anymore? Even the cat didn't love her anymore.

Nyn started to climb up. She had never climbed a tree herself, but she had watched older kids doing it and it couldn't be too hard, if they could do it then so could she.

She would show her parents. They would discover that she was missing soon and search for her. But they would never find her up here. She would spend all night up here if she had to. And when she finally came down they would be so happy to see her they would... they would...

She sniveled. What if they didn't? They didn't want her anymore. They probably wouldn't even look for her. She wiped her runny nose. Good, she thought. She didn't want them to. She didn't need them.

Nyn decided then that she would run away from home. She would run so far that they would never find her, even if they wanted to.

She started down, getting down should have been even easier than getting up was, but it was harder than she thought and she slipped and fell straight down.

Nyn couldn't move. It was getting darker, and colder. She began to cry, and screamed for her mother. She was alone. And she was hurt. And she was scared.

Her mother found her first, and held her tightly, crying out for her father. Nyn snuggled in her mother's warmth, she would be safe now.

Her father was calm as he carefully scooped his young daughter up into his strong arms. Nyn smiled. They had found her, as she knew they would.

When the family got back home, the father lay the girl on her bed. He straightened her legs, and she screamed in pain. Her parents whispered together. They're broken, her father told her mother. What are we going to do? Her mother sobbed. We can't afford a healer. We don't have to, her father whispered back.

The pain was black with flashes of red. And Nyn had to fight to stay awake. Her father lay his big hands on her leg and spoke in a language she didn't understand. His touch was warm and soothing, and the red flashes started to fade until they were gone altogether.

Nyn opened her eyes and saw her father smiling down at her, his hands holding a blue flame over her that did not burn. That was when she knew:

Her father was a mage.

The first time Nyn did magic she was eight. The baby had been born, and she had a little sister. And though she would never admit it to her parents, she didn't hate her as much as she thought she would. She liked being a big sister.

The small farming town was far behind them and they were living in a large, though clustered, tent community. Her father worked as a miner and her mother washed clothes for extra money. They were poor, but as happy as they had ever been. Though, Nyn had started to detect sadness in her mother's eyes and fear in her father's.

Baby Min was two and her father was away on a dig when she came down with the fever that had stricken the tight community. Nyn's parents kept many things from her. But they warned her about staying away from those who were sick and the importance of staying clean. And she knew what the small dirt hills on the far side of the town were, even if no one told her.

Nyn's mother fell asleep crying and waiting for her father to return. He would come too late though, her mother knew, and she knew. They had never spoken of what her father had done for her, except to say that she must never speak of it, but she remembered.

She silently crept toward her sleeping mother and sister, and placed her palm against her sister's feverish forehead. She closed her eyes and recalled the words that her father had spoken. There was a fire that didn't burn and then... darkness.

When Nyn woke, her mother was holding Min in her arms, both crying silently. And her father stood over her, a look of horror and fear on his was when he knew:

His daughter was a mage like him.

They sat together in the old barn, daughter and father, with an unlit candle between them.

You're trying too hard, Nyn. You're trying to lit it here, he pointed to her head, instead of here, he held his hand against her heart. Don't think about it. Just do it. I can't do it! She had screamed back, scared, frustrated, and angry. The candle burst into flames and melted down into the straw. Her father laughed with tears in his sad eyes. I knew you could do it, he kissed her on the top of her head.

Nyn, this is important, you must keep this a secret. No one must ever know you can do this. If they find out, they will take you away from us, they will take us, and we will never see your mother or Min again. Do you promise?

She had promised him, but they had come for them anyway.

Nyn was nine when the Templars came.

Her father had gotten work as a tutor for the ward of a lord and her mother worked in the manor as one of the many maids. Min was three and followed her big sister everywhere she went. And her mother was pregnant again. Twins, her father said, though because he knew she carried two babies or was teasing her over her weight gain, Nyn wasn't sure. She liked the thought of twins though, and she wished for a boy and girl.

They were more comfortable than the family ever remembered being, but they were also in more danger of being discovered and they had to be more careful than ever.

Nyn knew her father was up to something. He would disappear for hours at a time, and not come home at all some nights. And there were whispers of apostates, evil mages, roaming the countryside. Nyn had a feeling the two were connected, but though she tried, she could never prove it, and her father never spoke of it.

Eventually, the Chantry sent out their Templars to investigate the activity and they were housed in the manor. Her father was even more nervous and fearful than normal, and he kept fighting with her mother, though, Nyn couldn't hear what the arguments were over.

Even Min knew something was wrong, she would cry herself to sleep every night. And Nyn's dreams were full of armored Templars, where they had once been full of a handsome noble boy with blonde hair and blue eyes.

They came to their door at night. Their mother held them in their bedroom while their father answered the knock. It'll be fine, she whispered against their hair, but Nyn knew she was trying to convince herself as much as them.

The Templars had loud rough voices. And they called her father an apostate. How could he be? She had wondered. Apostates were evil and her father was... the most good she knew. He was kind and gentle. And would never hurt anyone.

She slipped from her mother's arms and crept toward the bedroom door, ignoring her mother's quiet call, she eased it open.

Her father stood straight and proud in front of the heavily armed men. If you come with us, you and your family will not be harmed, they told him with swords in their hands.

I will never go back there, he told them with red fire that burned in the palm of his hands. I'll die first.

No! Nyn ran out without thought. They couldn't take him. She wouldn't let them. She raised her hands and the fire that burned engulfed the three Templars. Their screams echoed in her ears.

She watched in shock as her father added his own blaze to hers and soon the silence was even more deafening than the screams had been.

Her father shook her roughly. We have to get out of here, he told her.

The manor was in chaos. Her father held her hand, and her mother ran clumsily behind them with Min in her arms. There was a servant entrance that led to the sewers and that was where her father was headed; probably how he had been sneaking in and out of the manor for months.

The way was clear. Her father motioned for her mother and sister to get out first. But before he could get Nyn through, more Templars showed up behind them. Go honey, I'll distract them. He quickly kissed her goodbye on the head. Take care of your mother and sister.

Nyn knew what she had to do.

She jerked out of his arms and ran back, throwing the fire that burned in front of her. But this time there were too many, they were ready for her, and they easily overpowered the smaller girl, though she fought to get away.

They dragged her out of the basements and she saw the Lord's young ward, the pretty blonde boy that she had dreamed of so often, and there was fear in his wide blue eyes; he was afraid of her.

She stopped fighting. She was tired, she was hurting, and she was alone. And this time no one would be coming for her.

Nyn was nine when she came to the Tower.


	2. Chapter 2

Nyn's father used to scare her with tales of the Tower. Be good, he told her, or they will come get you. They would lock her up and she would never be seen, or see anyone, ever again. It was a place of nightmares and darkness. The last thing she expected to find there was kindness, but she had.

Life in the Tower wasn't all bad. She never went hungry, except for the few times her mouth got her into trouble. She always had a bed to sleep in, even if she had to share the chamber with more than a dozen other girls. It was never too cold in winter, or too hot in the summer, although she did miss seeing the seasons. But best of all, there was no more running, and no more hiding who, and what, she was. No more fear.

And she discovered she quite liked magic. She liked its grace and beauty. And its power. She would never be weak as her father was, she promised. She wouldn't hide who, and what, she was, she would use it and find her own freedom.

Nyn thought of her lost family constantly in her first months at the Tower. She missed them more than she would have ever imagined and she felt hollow without them, as though she were missing her heart. She dreamed of them morning and night and wondered what they were doing, if they were thinking of her as she was them.

She missed Min most of all. And she wondered about the twins she had never met. She wondered if they were mages too and she searched every new apprentice that came into the Tower for familiar signs, but she always left in disappointment.

As she grew older, she grew angry. They had left her. Her father had made his choice, and he had chosen his wife and younger daughter over her. Maybe it wasn't fair of her, but none of it was fair. And after awhile she thought of them less and less, and then hardly at all. And then she forgot them, her father's voice and her mother's laugh, except in dreams.

She never forgot Min though, and never stopped thinking about her. It was strange to think that she was no longer that toddler she had left behind, she would be older than Nyn had been when she saw her last; almost a teen now. They used to look so much alike, with their white-blonde hair, and she wondered if they still looked the same. She wondered if Min even remembered her. One day she would find her, when she got out of here.

And she would, for the Tower might have been a comfortable prison, but it was a prison just the same. And she yearned for freedom.

She would miss the library though. She had always had a love for books and of reading, although they were hard to get on the road. The Tower had more books than she could have ever imagined one building holding, more than she could read in a single lifetime, more than every mage in the Tower could read in their lifetimes, although she could try. They held a magic and freedom of their own. She learned that knowledge was more powerful than any single weapon, even magic.

And she loved teaching the youngsters as she was doing now. She honestly enjoyed being with the younger students and showed a patience with them and that was surprising to her other instructors; she had often been told she could be quite 'difficult', though, she never saw it herself. It was assumed that she would become an instructor herself, and maybe she thought she would.

The youngsters were practicing fire magic in the practice room. Each of them, boys and girls, humans and elves, together stood before rows of candles; as her father had taught her years before. Most remained unlit, but a few showed a weak pale flame.

Nyn's own magical power was something of a wonder to the other mages at the Tower, when she could control it, and more than a few had been jealous of her strength.

"I can't do it!" The girl stomped her foot. "I'll never do it." Nyn smiled to herself; no, the girl was not familiar, not at all.

"You will," she bent down to the young girl's level. "You're overthinking it. You need to feel it," she pointed to her heart, "here." Magic was like breathing to a mage; and trying not to be a mage was as easy as not breathing would have been. They all got it, eventually.

"Apprentice Nynaeve, you are to come with us."

The sound of a hollowed voice behind a helm still made her feel like that little girl hiding in her mother's arms. She turned, keeping herself in front of the student. "What is it?"

The Templars helms covered the whole face and only their eyes shined through. They were uniformed, though one learned how to tell them apart; you had to, to survive. And unfortunately Nyn had recognized the speaker. He was the worst of the worst: a zealot. He believed mages were a blight on the world, that they were all abominations on the Maker's natural order.

"You are not to question us, mage. I will not tell you again."

"I'm not leaving with anyone until I hear where you're taking me." She crossed her arms in defiance; she wasn't afraid, she told herself. But there were three of them and they could overpower her easily; as easily as when she was only nine.

"Nyn- Nynaeve," a shorter brother in the back stuttered, "First Enchanter Irving has requested your presence." Templar Cullen. Nyn breathed out. Cullen wouldn't hurt her, he wouldn't hurt anyone.

"Thank you," she nodded to him; let no one say she didn't know her manners. "I will go to him immediately."

Nyn walked in front of the Templars as though she led them and not them her. She would never show her fear again. And she entered Irving's office without knocking.

The grey beard old man chuckled quietly when he stood to greet her, slow moving because of his age.

Nyn felt safe in the small tightly crammed office and with the kind old man. He had been the one who had held her when she cried for her parents her first night in the Tower. He was like the grandfather she had never known.

Not that she never got into trouble. She had been sent here more than a few times because of her mouth and temper, though, she could not think of what she could have done this time.

"Nynaeve, you came to us ten years ago and have shown remarkable progress. You have mastered spells with a speed and power beyond your years." Irving held her shoulders. "The Circle believes you are ready. You are to be given the Harrowing."

"The Harrowing?" She repeated numbly. It wasn't supposed to be real, it was only a tale to tell younger mages to scare them, stories of mages who disappeared in the night never to be seen again.

"Yes child, it is true," he answered. "I will not lie to you, it is as dangerous as you have heard. And you can be lost or killed during the test." Lost? She wondered what that meant. "You have two chances to walk away. You may leave now until you feel you are ready. However, if you agree now and back out later, you get no more chances and you will be turned Tranquil, do not take this choice lightly."

"And if I pass?"

"If you pass, you would no longer be an apprentice mage. And, if you never take the test, you will remain an apprentice for life."

As a mage she would be given more freedom than as an apprentice. She would have access to more than the first level spells. She could finally get into the second floor library. And she might even be given missions off Tower grounds.

There was no choice to make.

"I will take the Harrowing now, First Enchanter."


	3. Chapter 3

The going up the tower steps to the top floor was slow. The First Enchanter held on to Nynaeve's arm in support and Nyn tried not to trip over the skirt of her apprentice robe. Finally she used her free hand to hold up the garment above her ankles; modesty be damned, the Chantry probably made the mages wear the things to just slow them down.

At the top Irving paused. "Wait a moment, while I catch my breath." The First Enchanter did look tired to her, more than usual, and his breathing was fast and labored.

Nyn snorted. "You would think in a tower full of mages there would be an easier way up than using stairs."

Irving chuckled. "I believe it is meant to keep us humble, or some such." It was foolishness is what she thought of it. "Come, child, they will be waiting for us." He opened the wooden door, runes of protection lined its surface; to keep others out or in, she wondered uneasily.

Inside was plain. There was an altar in the back of the room and stain-glassed windows gave it light; the pictures on the glass showing scenes from the Chantry, she quickly looked away at the image of the Maker's wife, Andraste, slaying a mage with her fiery sword.

And Irving had spoken true; they were not alone. There were mages standing in vigil off to the side. Their cowls, and the shadows, hid their features, but she knew who the twelve must be: the Circle of Magi. Their presence made her nervous, though it was the others who were awaiting that made her fearful.

On either side of the altar stood six Templars, one for each of the mages. There was a moment when she wanted to tell the First Enchanter that she had changed her mind. And if she could have moved, she may have run. But it was only a moment. She held her head up high, whatever was going to happen she would face it bravely.

"Apprentice Nynaeve," another Templar, this one without his helmet came forward. Knight-Commander Greagoir, head of the Templars in the tower. He was an older man, but there was still steel in his gray. "You come before us to take the Rite of Magi, what say you?"

This was it, she remembered Irving's warning, there would be no backing out after she gave the word. "I am ready for the rite, Knight-Commander," she answered without hesitation.

"Come forward," Greagoir drew her to the altar. She came forward and looked down, there was a bowl with blue liquid that shone in the weak light.

"What you are looking at is lyrium," Irving moved up beside her. "It is a substance formed by raw magic. It gives us mages our power to cast spells we would be unable to on our own. However, as in all things, it comes with a price."

"It is said that lyrium was first formed in the fade, the world of dreams, and there are demons of the fade who have a hunger for it," Greagoir added. "A mage who cannot resist such demon may become an abomination and must be slain."

The fade? Demons? She almost laughed in his face. She feared this? This was childrens tales.

"Do not take this lightly, apprentice," Irving cautioned as though he could hear her thoughts. "Lyrium is a gateway into the fade, however it works both ways. Before you are allowed to leave this room, you must prove that you can resist such a demon."

"How do I do that?" She felt more than a little angry, she had expected a serious ceremony and this was nothing more than a silly game.

"You will take the lyrium and enter the fade," Irving answered. "There you will find a demon, and you will defeat it."

"Or it will defeat you," Greagoir added.

Nyn searched the two men's faces, they were as different as two men could be but they both shared one thing: they both actually believed this. She saw no choice but to play along with them. "What must I do?"

"You must drink of this lyrium," Irving spoke with ritual. "It is strong enough that it will send you straight into the fade." He touched her shoulder and lowered his voice. "You can do this."

Knight-Commander Greagoir dipped a goblet into the bowl and held it out to her. "As Andraste herself taught, magic is to serve man and not rule over him. And as fire cleansed her, may it cleanse you."

Nyn snorted. Magic is to serve man? More like be a slave to man. And Andraste wasn't cleansed by fire, she was burned and killed by it; hopefully her own fate would be better.

She gulped the potion down and gagged, she could feel it burning in her mouth and throat, in her stomach. It was poison, it had to be, that bastard Gregoir had killed -

Nynaeve opened her eyes. She quickly sat up prepared to give Greagoir a piece of her mind, but - this wasn't the tower. She didn't know where this was.

She stood and looked around. She was on a platform, an island. Below her was nothing but pale green fog, above her the same. At her feet was what must have been dirt, but not like any dirt she had ever known. Behind her was a gateway, an arch, that showed a hazy image of the tower room she had just been in; it was like looking into a dirty mirror. She watched as two Templars moved to her fallen form and picked her limp body up, they then moved out of sight.

She snorted. Alright, she consented, this is obviously the fade. She was in a dream. Only a dream. The trick, she decided, was to find her way and wake up. She tried without success to enter the wayback; not surprisingly, it wouldn't be that easy. There was nothing else to do but go forward.

As she walked to the edge of the platform a bridge formed before her eyes linking onto another island. And around her other islands were forming in the green mist; she hoped she wouldn't have to visit them all.

On the next island were rocks and tunnels small enough for only a rodent. She looked around for clues. Was she supposed to shrink herself someway to fit?

"Another lamb fit for slaughter I see."

Nyn looked down at the voice and gave a laugh. "A talking mouse, now I know I'm in a dream."

"One of you," the mouse chittered, "the unbelievers are always fun. They always break first."

She crossed her arms. She didn't like anyone making fun of her, even an imaginary mouse, especially a talking mouse from her own imagination. "And what are you?"

"My name is... well, Mouse," he shrugged his tiny shoulders.

"Either your parents were very creative, or that isn't your real name."

"Oh, you think you're so clever, don't you?" He hopped onto a rock closer to her. "What if I told you I was once like you? I wasn't always a mouse, once long ago, I was a lamb just like you."

"You were a mage?" There were spells that turns mages into animals, though, they went against the Chantry. Her best friend, her only friend, Anders had once tried to turn himself into a cat to escape from the Tower, he only managed to give himself whiskers for a week; she thought he looked like a fool, though, it had made him very popular with the female mages.

"An apprentice." He clicked his teeth together. "Go into the fade, they said. Hunt a demon, they said. As if it were that simple. The demon here is too strong. I only survived by running, by hiding. I've been hiding... a long time... a very long... long time. Everyone one else is gone... is gone gone gone. They don't tell you that do they? Oh, no, no, no. You cannot die in the fade, you just disappear. Gone like the others... gone... gone. And you will be gone too if you confront the demon."

If she truly believed him, and strangely she did, the experience had clearly unhinged the former apprentice. But the truth was, he had scared her. She hitched her shoulders back. "That won't happen to me. I won't fail."

"Maybe... maybe not... maybe it won't matter." He hopped on her shoulder. "Do you know what happens if the demon doesn't kill you? The Templars will. Right now there's a sword against your neck. They're waiting for you to fail. All it takes is one little swipe," he sliced her skin with a small nail, "and you're gone... gone."

She gulped. She could almost feel the cold of the blade against her. All the apprentices who disappeared in the night and never returned, that is what happened to them. She grew angry.

"It isn't right that they do this," he urged her, speaking low in her ear. "The Templars. The Circle. They're the real demons here."

Nyn shook the mouse off of her shoulder. "It doesn't matter. The only thing that does is I have to find the demon and destroy it."

The mouse brushed himself off. "You don't even have a weapon."

She smiled. This was the fade and she was dreaming; anything was possible. She closed her eyes and thought hard, and suddenly she had a mage's staff in her hands. "I do now."

"Maybe... maybe you're the one. The one to finally free us." He hopped about excited. "I can show you the way... if you like."

"Take me to the demon," she agreed. She wasn't afraid, not really, but the sooner she got this done the sooner she could get home.

The mouse led her through islands, each one warmer than the last, until he stopped on the final, fires ringed the edges and closed off the route behind them.

"He is here," the mouse whispered.

Nyn's heart pounded in her chest. "I'm here! Stop hiding and come and get me you coward!" she yelled out.

A form from a nightmare slithered out from the fire, made of flames itself. It cackled with laughter. "You are a delicious one." Nyn backed away from it, holding out the staff. "Mouse, you will be rewarded for bringing me this one."

"You!" She aimed at the mouse. "You betrayed me."

"Betray you?" he tried to hide. "I don't even know you."

"Enough!" The demon screamed out. "You will face me, mortal."

She would deal with the mouse after. She dodged the demon's attack just in time, but her sleeve caught on fire. She grinned. The demon was only fire... and she knew how to deal with fire...

Nyn attacked back with an ice spell powered by the strength of the staff. The demon screamed in pain and she thought it looked smaller. Smiling, she continued the attack, and with one last scream it was gone.

"You did it!" The mouse came out of hiding. "You have freed us!"

"You," she pointed the staff at the small figure. "What were their names?"

"Who - what are you talking about?"

"The others you betrayed. Who were they?" The mouse was a coward and worse a traitor, he deserved to die for what he had done. "How many were there? Do you even remember?"

"I don't... you don't understand. It was the demon. He... made me do it. He would've killed me if I hadn't helped him." The mouse backed away. "But you defeated him. You have avenged us all."

"What happens now?" He didn't deserve to be let go, but, she couldn't do it. Maybe being stuck here was punishment enough. But she had to find her own way out. And soon.

"Now, you go back and maybe... if you're willing I can help you. You just need to take me with you."

"I'm supposed to trust you again?" She snorted.

"You had the power to defeat the demon. In no time you will be an enchanter. And maybe even First Enchanter. And I can help you. You just need to bring me back into the Tower. I can hide. They won't even find me-"

Nynaeve laughed. "You overplayed yourself, demon." The fire demon hadn't been the test, this was. The mouse was the master, not the servant, and she had almost fallen for it.

"Aren't you the clever one?" The mouse grew and changed until he towered over her. "Watch out for that pride of yours young one," its laughter shook the ground. "I know we will." It faded away.

And Nyn blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4

Nynaeve dreamed that she was chasing an especially annoying little mouse that kept hiding from her before she could catch him. Come back here, you stupid rodent! She called out. When she caught up to him she would wring his stupid little neck until his eyes popped out of his stupid little head. Finally! She smacked her hand down and - opened her eyes.

"Dreaming we're a kitty cat, are we?" Anders smiled, rubbing his arm where she had hit him. Anders was handsome in a roguish way, and he knew it; he was a scoundrel. He had recently taken to wearing his dirty blonde hair long and pulled back from his thin face and had gotten someone to pierce his ears where he wore hooped dangles. Most women, and quite a few men, found him charming; Nyn has always been immune to his charms, but she did love him as the brother she may have had.

She smiled back, maybe she wasn't completely immune to his ways. The first time they had met he was a dirty child trying to catch a mouser cat in the Tower's basements. She helped him catch the tom, and they had been friends ever since. They were also each others first kiss; her first and last, his first of many. She was never jealous of the others though, she had something the others never would: his friendship.

"I tried to find you at dinner but you weren't there," he sat down on the bed next to her. "There were rumors that Templars took you from the library and you hadn't been seen since. When you weren't at breakfast, I thought..."

"They took me to Irving," she brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear; though, they were near the same age she often caught herself taking care of him as an older sister might. "They never touched me, Anders."

He sighed softly and lay his head against her shoulder. He was probably thinking of the many times he hadn't been so lucky; he had suffered many beatings at the hands of the Templars. "So, it's true then? You took the Harrowing didn't you?"

Nynaeve hesitated. She wasn't supposed to speak of it, but she had never lied to Anders before and she wasn't going to start now. "I did," she admitted.

"What was it like?" he asked, and stretched out on her bed. There was much to Anders that reminded her of his cats he loved so much, maybe that was why he loved them. He touched her neck. "How did you get this scratch?"

Nyn felt for herself; it was a thin wound right in the spot where the mouse had scratched her with his claw. "The mouse gave it to me."

Anders snorted. "Right, the mouse from the dream?" He paused. "Was it as bad as they say?"

"Nah," she laughed, "it was easy."

"Cullen is telling people it was the fastest Harrowing in years," he grinned, "but he would, wouldn't he?"

She smacked him on the shoulder. She felt herself grow warm. Cullen. She should have figured he was one of the Templars at the testing. It seemed he was always around where she was. Anders was convinced the young Templar had a crush on her; she thought he was a fool, both of them.

"And now, you'll move into the mages' dorm and I'll be alone."

"Anders, you haven't been alone since you were twelve," she reminded him. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of company."

"It isn't the same, and you know it," he pouted. "I'm going to miss you."

"It's only one floor, Anders. You act as though we'll never see each other again."

"You'll be too busy with mage-y stuff to remember little me."

"How could I ever forget you?" She teased. She would never, could never, forget him. But Anders was right, she knew. This would change everything; apprentices and mages were kept completely separate, they would never see each other. It wasn't fair. "Who's going to keep you out of trouble?"

"M-mage Nynaeve, F-first Enchanter Irv-ing wishes to see you in his office." Cullen, speak of the demon. Nyn sat up and brushed her skirts down.

Anders got up. "I'm late for a class anyway." He took her hand and brushed the back of it with his mouth. And as he passed by Cullen he gave the other man a lewd wink. Nyn shook her head, he would never learn.

"Thank you for the message," she waited for him to leave her.

"I c-c-can accompany you, if you like."

"I wouldn't want to distract you from your duties," she smiled.

"Oh," he smiled back. "You wouldn't be a distraction. I mean you are - but you aren't."

Nynaeve sighed. She didn't know why she just didn't inform the Templar that his attention was in no way welcome; he wouldn't have been the first. And it wasn't as though she liked it; the nerves in her stomach were only because she had missed both dinner and breakfast.

Cullen was cute though - for a Templar. His helm was off showing his short reddish curly hair and grey eyes.

"Anders said you were at my Harrowing."

"I was," he walked on her side. "They promoted me to Lieutenant. I will be posted to the mage's quarters."

"Uh... congratulations." Great, she thought, now there'd be no getting rid of him.

"You and Anders...? Are you two... you know... together?"

"We're just friends." By the Maker, she cursed, what was he getting at? He couldn't be foolish enough to think that he and she could... a mage and a Templar... Andraste's grace, it was foolish to even think it.

"Anders seems to have many... friends," he paused. "He's trouble. I think you should be careful around him."

Alright, now he was making her mad. How dare he question her relationship with her best friend. Who the fade did he think he was? She breathed in; someone who could cause trouble for her if she wasn't careful, that's who. "I believe that is my concern, though, I thank you for the warning."

"I worry about you... that's all."

Okay, this had gone on long enough. Cullen was cute in a boyish kind of way. And the attention had been flattering, she couldn't deny it. She may have even felt some fondness for him. And maybe if he wasn't who and what he was... No. She had to end this now before it was too late.

"Cullen, I think you have the wrong idea-"

"Here we are," he smiled. "I'm glad we got this chance to talk. Maybe we could do this again."

"I... yes. We should talk again." Soon, she added. It wasn't something she was looking forward to, but it needed to be done.

"I'd like that," his smile turned into a grin. "Until that time."

When he was gone, she rolled her eyes. Why did these things happen to her? And Anders would be no help; he wouldn't be able to stop laughing when she told him. If she told him.

Nynaeve opened Irving's door without knocking.

The First Enchanter was in his office, but he wasn't alone. The other man was a stranger to the Tower; neither mage or Templar. He was a dark big man; clearly a warrior he wore two naked swords at his back.

"I must be honest with you, we need every man and woman we can get," the stranger's voice was surprisingly gentle. "If we cannot push back the darkspawn now I fear-"

Nyn paused. Darkspawn... that must mean that this man was one of the Grey Wardens... but what was he doing here?

"Ah," Irving noticed her. "It seems we have a visitor. Come in, child."

"You sent for me?" The stranger's dark eyes made her nervous; this man was a killer and there was something of a predator in the way he looked at her. She couldn't look away. "I can come back."

"No need," Irving said, "I wanted you two to meet. Nynaeve this is Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens."

"Pleased to meet you, ser," she gave an awkward curtsey.

"And you," Duncan bowed his dark head. "If you will excuse me, Irving, I should prepare for the journey back."

"Of course. I only wish we could have been of more help."

"So do I, old friend. So do I."

Nynaeve watched Duncan leave. He moved as a warrior; he reminded her of a large wolf she had seen once while traveling with her family. He was impressive, and more than a little scary.

"I wished to give you this as soon as I could," Irving held something small in the palm of his hand. "I know how you have been looking forward to getting it." She took it from him. It was a ring with the symbol of the Tower. "This names you as a full mage of the Magi and grants you its privileges."

"Thank you," she spoke with true feeling. She had been waiting for this moment a long time, but it came with sadness. It was a bittersweet victory. She placed it on her finger; she was no longer an apprentice.

"Your new duties will begin tomorrow, but the rest of the day is yours."

Nynaeve knew the first place she would go, the second floor library. She was going to find out everything she could on Grey Wardens and the darkspawn they fought.


	5. Chapter 5

The apprentices' library was always a place of activity. It was brightly lit, never empty, and hardly ever quiet. The mage's library could not have been more different. The only light were the shaded lamps on each table, giving the illusion of being alone even when you weren't. And it was so quiet that Nynaeve could hear the page every time she turned one. She loved it here; but she also missed the noise.

Frustratingly she could find little on the Grey Wardens that was not already known. They were a group of warriors, and mages she noticed with interest, who battled the darkspawn. They could recruit anyone, though, their initiation process was a tightly held secret. Some claimed they had the blood of the first men, others that they had darkspawn blood themselves, however, no one really knew.

Of darkspawn even less was known. Some considered them monsters, others demons, a few believed they were an unrecognized race of beings, there were some who even thought that it was a disease that transformed its host into hideous beasts. And if the books were true, the darkspawn came in many sizes and shapes. No one knew where they had come from, though, the Chantry taught that they came from the fade. They also taught that they were mankind's curse for going against the Maker. Nyn especially enjoyed that one. They mostly stayed in the darkroads, an original name she thought, in dwarf territory. Although, they were known to surface from time to time, perhaps disturbed by the dwarves' digging, or in search of food, they were usually never seen on the surface in great numbers. Though, the few times they had, another Blight was feared.

Nynaeve searched through the pages for facts. But there was little evidence that a Blight had even happened outside of legends and songs. Though, each agreed that it was only the Grey Wardens who could stop one Most stories ended with one Grey Warden defeating the archdemon in single combat.

Many of the books had mentioned an archdemon, though little more. No one knew what it, or they, were or where they came from.

Nynaeve yawned.

"Nyn! Here you are." She looked up to see that Anders had found her. "Anders, how did you get in here?" This was all she needed, she thought. When he got caught here, she would be dragged right along with him, on her first day too; maybe Cullen had had a point.

"I... uh... know the mage at the front," he mumbled, and had the nerve to look embarrassed. She bet he just 'knew' the mage. "He owes me a favor. But that doesn't matter right now. I needed to find you. I need your help."

Anders did look a little worse for wear; she wondered what sort of trouble he he was now. There had been times she wanted to turn her back on him, but she never had; she never would. "What is it this time?"

"Not here," he looked around nervously. "Too many ears. We need to talk somewhere more private."

"Alright, just give me a moment." While she put her things together to leave, Anders bounced anxiously on his feet; he had never acted this way before, it was starting to scare her - what had he gotten himself into this time? "Okay, I'm ready."

He led her out of the library, remembering a quick smile for the handsome mage at the door. She expected him to turn and lead her back to the apprentices floor but he led them farther into the floor they were on. And when he entered a room and stopped, she thought he must have made a mistake.

"The Chantry?" She tried to keep her voice low, although, there was only one priestess at this hour at prayer. "Are you crazy?"

"Calm down, Nyn," he gave his trademark sideways grin. "This is the perfect place for a little... privacy. I've been here before. We won't be caught, and if we do-," he shrugged. They had the perfect excuse. She couldn't believe that Anders had used a place of worship for his laisons - no strike that, she could. "Come," he led her to the back pew where they would have the most privacy, and they could keep an eye on who came in; though, they would also be trapped.

"Alright, Anders, why the secrecy? What's going on?" She had a bad feeling about this, though, it could have been being in the Chantry; she wasn't exactly a believer.

"I...," he sat next to her, held his head in his hands. "I've screwed up. Big time. There's a group of us. We believe that the Chantry has no right to be involved in Magi affairs." Nynaeve nodded. She knew there were always 'secret' groups who believed this, the Tower usually turned a blind eye towards them, until they did something. She hadn't known that Anders got involved in Tower politics, but it didn't surprise her either. "What happened?" She asked.

He put his hands down. "They started to... dabble in things I didn't want to. And I left. I haven't been to a meeting in a month. Nyn, you have to believe me," he pleaded. She did. Anders might not tell her the whole truth, he may skirt the truth, but he had never straight out lied to her. "I do," she assured him. "But why do you need my help?"

"This morning Templars made a search of my belongings and they found... charms... curses." He took both of her hands. "They weren't mine. I swear it. I didn't even know they were there."

Curses... blood magic. Her heart sank. Anders had gotten involved in blood magic. It was bad, worse than she had feared. "How did they get there?"

"The others must have planted them," he sighed. "Maybe they thought they needed to shut me up, or maybe it was revenge for leaving,...," he shrugged. "I don't know."

"Who are they?"

"I... can't tell you. I won't. They'll kill me. And you, if I tell you."

"Anders, I want to help, but you need to trust me..."

"That isn't why I need you. There's more," he looked down. "I'm being charged as a... a... fade, I can't even say it... a blood mage. The evidence was found on me, Nyn. They'll never believe me. The Chantry is going to make me Tranquil."

"They wouldn't... they couldn't," she said. The Tranquil in the Tower frightened her. The process removes all magic, all emotion, and leaves behind an empty shell. But those mages had chosen to become Tranquil on their own. Even some mages believed magic was a curse. "They can't force a mage into becoming Tranquil."

"They can. If the mage is guilty of a great crime." And blood magic was. "And if the Knight-Commander, First Enchanter, and Mother Superior all agree. Which in cases involving blood magic, they usually do."

"We need to go to Irving and tell him the truth. I'll go with you. You need to tell him what you've told me. You need to tell him the other names. Anders, you need to fight this." And she would fight, right alongside him.

"I... can't, Nyn. It's too late for that. I need to get out of here. For good this time. And I have a plan, but I need you."

"Anders...," she had to convince him. "You can't run. This won't just go away this time. If you run and they catch you... they'll... they'll." She began to cry softly. They'd take him away from her. Forever. "We can make this right. Together. But I won't help you run."

"You would, if you loved me." He moved to leave, she stopped him. "Anders," she told him, "I love you as much as if you were of my blood." More, she added. "Just let me speak to Irving. Before you decide anything. Allow me this. Please?" She could fix this, she knew it. She had to.

He nodded. "I don't have much choice, do I? You're the only one who I can ask to do this."

Nynaeve kissed Anders' brow. "Stay here, where I can find you. Promise?" And she would be back with good news, whatever she had to do. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

She knew in her heart though, it may not be. Anders might have found too much trouble this time. Nyn rushed back to Irving's office before it was too late.

She heard the First Enchanter talking to someone before she got to the open door, when she heard the Knight-Commander answer, she hid herself against the wall next to the door.

"We have all the proof we need. The evidence was found in his things."

Anders! They were talking about Anders. She held her breath.

"He denies that they are his."

"As he would. How many blood mages admit their crimes?"

"I cannot agree to do this without more solid proof."

"What more do you need? I know you have a fondness for the boy, but he has been nothing but trouble since he got here. And now he has gone too far. If you do not take the steps to stop him, I will. I will charge you with aiding and abetting a blood mage. You will be forced to resign in disgrace. Is he worth it? You know he is not."

"What about the Grey Wardens? They are desperate for mages. We can send him with Duncan."

"I will never agree to that. You will sign this Rite of Tranquility now. Or I will go straight to the Mother Superior and charge you with treason. Which will it be?"

"You have forced my hand, as you know, Gregoir. You may have won this battle but you haven't won the war."

No. Only Anders would be lost. Nynaeve had never been more mad. At Gregoir. At Irving. Even at Anders for getting himself involved with this. And herself. She wanted nothing more than to storm in there, rip up the signatures and give them a piece of her mind. But that wouldn't help Anders now.

Nynaeve walked away before Gregoir came out. She would return to Anders and hear him out. She had to help him now. She wouldn't let them have him. Whatever she had to do.


	6. Chapter 6

When Nynaeve returned to the Chantry, she found Anders kneeling in front of the altar of Andraste; he was alone. No doubt he was praying to the goddess, unlike her, he believed in the goddess, though, he didn't agree with her.

"I'll do it."

Anders sprang to his feet and grabbed her in a hug. "I knew I could count on you. Did you talk to Irving?"

"I didn't have to," she avoided telling him the truth. It would do no good anyway. "You were right. And I'll do whatever you need me to."

He stepped back. "The plan is simple really. The Tower keeps a vial of blood from each apprentice." It was insurance for when a mage tried to escape, the blood could be used to track the mage down. Her own would have been sent to the capital after she passed the Harrowing. "If I can destroy mine before I escape, they'll never find me."

"Anders...," she should have known better, this was no plan, "this is foolish. We don't even know where they're kept."

"Aha, but I do," he grinned. "A pretty little priestess told me." Nynaeve rolled her eyes. Was there anyone left in the Tower who he didn't know? "They're kept locked away in a secret room in the basement."

"Do you suppose we use a lockpick to get in?"

"Wouldn't work even if you could pick a lock," he said. "It will only open with the touch of a medallion carried by Templar officers."

Nynaeve snorted. "And you have a plan to get one?" She could guess how too.

"No," he grinned, "my plan is for you to get one."

"And how I'm I supposed to do that?"

"Luckily for us a certain lovestruck Templar was just promoted," he reminded her. "He will have one on him. You only need to figure out a way to get it from him."

"No. Absolutely not." She couldn't do what he was asking. She couldn't. And it wouldn't be right, or fair, to Cullen. "Cullen is a fool, but he isn't stupid. I can't just ask him for it..."

"You won't have to. Just get him alone. It'll be hanging from a chain near his sword. You only need to find some way to distract him and take it." Some way... she just bet. "There's no other option. Please? At least say you'll try."

To the fade with him, he was right. There was no time for another plan. Gregoir would be planning Anders' fate as they spoke. "Fine," she gave in. "I'll do it."

"Don't look so glum," he winked. "You might even enjoy it."

Nynaeve would save him from the Templars so she could kill him herself!

Nyn almost gave up her search for the Templar, the one time she actually wanted him and she couldn't find him. In the end it was he who found her.

"Nynaeve," he greeted her with a smile that made her feel guilty. "Are you okay? You look... troubled." He looked even younger, more innocent, or maybe it was her guilt gnawing at her. "I was looking for you actually," she smiled, hoped it didn't look as sick as she felt. "Would you like to take a walk with me in the gardens?"

"I'd love to." He offered his arm and she took it. Her heart pounded in more than just nervousness. As he spoke to her of his day, she glanced down and confirmed that he did in fact have the medallion on him; she almost wished he didn't.

The garden wasn't truly a garden, though, it was what everyone called it. It was actually the greenhouse where all of the Tower's plants were housed.

"You don't know how happy I was that you passed your Harrowing. I don't know if I could have... done my duty-"

"Huh...," Nyn had let her attention wander. "Your duty?"

"Y-yes," he stammered. "I was chosen to be the one to... to... if you had failed..." Andraste's mercy! He meant... she had forgotten the things that the demon had told her in the fade. She had thought them lies told to confuse and weaken her. But Cullen was telling her... it had been his blade at her throat the whole time... his hand. She felt sick. "Could you have done it? If you had to?" She asked weakly.

"It... was my duty. If I had to... I would have done my duty," he smiled. "But I would have felt horrible about it." No worse than she, she should think.

"I must say, I would have too," she smiled back and leaned into him. "I should return, but I'm glad we got this chance to know each other better." It wasn't a lie; not really. She softly kissed the side of his mouth as she had thought of doing so many times. And swiped the object she came for; she didn't even feel guilty.

Nynaeve quickly returned to Anders and tossed the medallion at him. "I got it." He could leave now. He could leave her. It hadn't hit her before. She was going to lose him either way.

"Aha! I knew you could do it!" He noticed her tears and grabbed her arm. "Hey, what's wrong? What happened? Did Cullen do something?" She shook her head. "No, nothing like that," she said, kissed him as she had Cullen. "Go, I'll fine."

"Ahhh, about that," he tossed the medallion up. "I may have mislead you. I need your help again. Just one more thing, promise. The door needs a mage's ring to open. It only works for a mage and Templar working together."

Nyn started to laugh and she couldn't stop. "What will you without me?" Maker, she was going to miss him.

Nynaeve felt as though every eye was on them, and they may have been the way Anders kept greeting people as they passed. "Act natural," he nudged her. "If you act guilty, they'll know you're up to something."

They made it to the basement without incident and Anders led the way to the secret door. Nynaeve thought it looked ordinary and unimpressive. "I'll touch the seal with the medallion, you use your ring." The door slid easily open. Anders took a deep breath. "I guess this is goodbye..."

"We haven't gotten your blood yet." She pushed him through. "Come on." She needed to see this to the end. "So, have you thought about it?" She asked. "What you're going to do once you're free?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe find a farm somewhere."

"You'd go crazy in a day."

"Maybe find a pretty farmer's daughter."

"Now there's the Anders I know and love," she laughed. "What about your family? You never mention them."

"Nothing to mention," he said. "My mother was a very devout woman, she thought I was a demon, end of story." Nyn caught the pain that crossed his face. "Well, you know... you are pretty demonic looking," she teased. She knew Anders hadn't had the easiest life, and he had the scars to prove it.

"Ha, ha, very funny," he looked back at her. "What about you? Do you miss them?"

"No. Not really. Not anymore," she answered. They never spoke of their parents, most mages don't speak at all of their lives before the Tower. "I had a sister. I miss her. Min." When she got out, the first thing she was going to do was look for Min. She needed to know she was fine. "Anders? Can you do me a favor, when you get out? I'd like you to look for her. Just make sure she's okay... you know?"

"Sure," he winked. "Is she a looker like you? 'Cause if she is I'd be more than happy to." Nynaeve smacked him on the arm. "You touch her, I kill you. You got that?" She threatened.

"I wish you were coming with me," he said.

"Don't be going all sentimental on me, we'll see each other again."

They continued in comfortable silence, until Anders stopped in front of another door. "This is supposed to be the room." Nyn understood his hesitation; freedom was finally in his reach and he was afraid of losing it. She took his hand and they walked in together.

Anders whistled. "Where do we even start looking?" The room was full of cases, and each case was full of small vials of blood. It was Nynaeve who figured it out. They were kept together by year and name. She picked up Anders' and handed it to him.

He took it in hand and gently touched it. He placed it in his pocket. He would break it when he was safely away. "This is it," he looked at her sadly. "I... couldn't have done this without you. I owe you... everything. If you ever need anything..."

"Anders," she hugged him tightly to her, held his face. "Just promise me to stay out of trouble." She gave him a quick peck on his cheek. "If you want to do something for me, look for my sister. Min. Min Hawke." Her last name tasted strange on her lips after so long.

"Min Hawke," he repeated. "You got it. I'll find her."

"And Anders," she tugged roughly on his hair, "if you touch her, I will find you. You are to treat her as though she were your own sister. Understand?"

"Understood," he said. "Maker, I'll miss you. I'm going to find someway to get you out of here. I promise." He kissed her, his lips brushing hers. She closed her eyes. "Thank you... for everything," he whispered in her ear. And when she finally opened them again, he was gone and she was alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Nynaeve made her way back alone as Anders was making his escape through the servant's tunnels where he would then steal a boat and get off the island. She hoped he made it. He had to make it.

Whatever happened now everything had changed. The first thing she had to do was put Cullen's medallion in a place he could find it but couldn't blame her. She would drop it on the ground in the gardens, he probably hadn't even missed it yet; even if she thought he deserved not to find it.

His betrayal had hurt more than she cared to admit. Anders was right, all Templars were the same and none of them could be trusted.

Anders... she was going to miss him as much as she missed Min, more than, she had known him longer. Anders and Min. That may not have been a great decision. She trusted Anders - to a point - but if he hurt her sister in anyway... she'd kill him.

She would find them. She had to.

She would study and work harder than she ever had and in a few years she would make Enchanter, where she would be trusted to be sent on missions, and after that... well, she would think of something when the time came.

Nynaeve climbed the stairs out of the basements.

"Stop there! Don't move. And put your hands together and where we can see them." Nyn's heart slammed against her chest and stopped. Templars. And not just any Templars, the Knight-Commander. She clasped her hands together and held them before her. The same Templar moved forward and bound her wrists with a chain. She was terrified, everything in her urged her to fight back, to run, but she knew it would only make things worse for her. And Anders.

"You are charged with helping a blood mage escape," Gregoir came forward. "What do you plea?"

Nyn held her head up and looked him straight in the eye. "Innocent." She was. Anders was no blood mage.

Gregoir leaned in her face and gave her a cruel grin. "I will enjoy making you talk." He straightened and looked to the Templar behind her. "Take her to the interrogation room." She was shoved from behind.

It was hard enough to walk without being shoved from behind after every few steps but she managed, somehow, to stay on her feet. She was scared, but more than scared, she was angry.

They led her to a section of the Tower she had never been in. The Templars headquarters. There would be no escape. And she would find no help here. Now she wasn't scared; she was terrified.

She was pushed through a door that clanged shut behind her. And while one Templar held her still another conducted a search of her body. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see them. Ashamed of their touch on her, as though it were her fault. She felt sick and tasted bile in her mouth. When they were finished with her they pushed her down into the room's only chair.

Nynaeve looked around. The room was tiny and sparse. One table. One chair. No windows. Chains on the wall.

Gregoir stood on the other side of the table. "I am not going to play games with you, Mage," his voice was calm. "You were witnessed entering the basement with Apprentice Anders where you aided him in his escape. Things will go much easier on you if you tell me what I want to know. Where is he?" They hadn't found him yet! And if she had anything to say about it, they never would.

"I don't know."

Gregoir threw an object onto the table. It was an ugly cloth doll with dark blonde hair attached to its head. Her heart lurched in her chest. Oh, Anders, what did you get yourself into? "Do you recognize this object?"

"Never saw it."

"We found this in Anders' possession. Undeniable proof that he was practicing dark arts. Blood magic." The Knight-Commander was a fool. Why would Anders curse himself? "And you helped him escape." He tossed something else on the table. "How did you come to have this on your person?"

"I found it."

"Odd," he picked it up. "This is Lieutenant Cullen's, and he tells a somewhat different tale. He tells of how you have been following him, stalking his every move." She couldn't believe it! The nerve of him! "He tells of how you tricked him into being alone with you. How you then proceeded to try and seduce him. Luckily for him he was able to get away. Do you know what I believe? You and Anders are in this together. And you cast some kind of spell on Lieutenant Cullen, didn't you?"

She saw how it would be. No matter how she answered, no one would believe her over the Templar. The fool probably believed his own lies.

There was a knock at the door and one of the Templars answered it. The Templar who entered handed a small cloth bag to the Knight-Commander.

"We found this at the docks, ser."

Gregoir opened the bag and looked inside. He didn't look happy. What now? She wondered. "Continue the search," he ordered the other.

He dumped the contents of the bag in front of Nynaeve. Broken pieces of glass. Anders' vial. Nyn smiled. He had gotten away. He was safe. She started to laugh. "You find this funny, do you?"

That Anders was where they couldn't touch him? "Very." The Knight-Commander raised his armored hand and struck her across the face. It hurt; but the sting felt good.

The door banged opened.

"What is going on here?" The First Enchanter demanded. "You cannot take one of my mages without informing me of it."

"This mage is a criminal," Gregoir pointed.

"I will speak with her," Irving said. "Alone."

"I cannot allow it."

"You have no choice."

Gregoir surprised her by actually listening and leaving with his Templars. She didn't understand it. More games. And she felt like a game piece.

"Oh child, what were you thinking?" Irving wiped blood from her lip with his sleeve. "You should have come to me when you heard of Anders' plan. You were never supposed to get caught in this."

"You knew?" She jerked away from his touch.

"That he would try to escape? No. What Gregoir intended for him? Yes."

"How could you?" She cried. "You know Anders isn't a blood mage. You knew he was innocent."

"Yes," he admitted softly. "But some battles cannot be won."

"And some are worth fighting. Even if you lose."

"Perhaps you are right, child." He looked down at her. "Do you regret what you have done?"

"Never." The regret would be if she had done nothing.

Irving left and the Templars returned without Gregoir. They got her up and took her to a cell. They pushed her in and slammed the door shut.

Nyn sat on the ground. It was dark. She was cold. And she was alone. She closed her eyes. She didn't know how long she had been there. And when she woke, she didn't know how long she had slept.

The door opened again and bright light entered the dark cell. She propped herself the best she could against the wall; she was blind."Nynaeve?" It was Irving. There was another dark figure beside him. "You remember the Grey Warden Duncan?" Sure, she would shake his hand but she was a little tied up at the moment.

Irving came in and knelt in front of her. He untied the chains around her wrists. The skin was red and bloody. And they burned. "You're letting me go?" Her lips were dry and cracked.

"Not exactly," he answered. "You are to go with Duncan. He came for you." Came here to the cell? Or to the Tower?

"I did not only come for mages, Nynaeve," Duncan helped her to her feet. He was strong but gentle. "I have also come to recruit for the Grey Wardens. I wish to recruit you."

Nyn laughed, it hurt. "You want me?"

"You are here because of loyalty to a friend. I admire that."

"You would let me go?" She asked Irving. "What about Gregoir?"

"Let me worry about the Knight-Commander," he said. "You were right, there are things worth fighting for. And you are one of those things. Go. Become a Grey Warden. Make me proud."

Nyn teared. She hugged the old man to her. "Thank you."

Duncan took her arm. "We should be going before we are caught."

Nynaeve followed Duncan to her new life, and left the old one behind.

**To Be Continued... ?  
Probably. At some point. But I can make no promises. My plans are for two fics. One for Nynaeve. And one for Min. Although, they will go together. The first will be a Warden/Alistair fic. (Some readers may have caught a big clue to this in the first chapter.) The second (it should have been pretty obvious) is a Hawke/Anders fic. If/When I write the Warden's story I will add the chapters to this existing one.  
Thank you for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

Nynaeve leaned back against the tree and looked up. There were more stars in the sky than she had remembered. And the moon was large and bright. She wondered if Anders was looking at the same moon. If Min was. She took a deep breath. The air was fresh. She smelled the grass and trees, the lake, and dinner. Her stomach growled. She had missed dinner the night before, and had only grabbed a quick lunch during the day. She was starving.

Duncan had finished setting their meager camp, and handed her a bowl. "This must all be very strange to you," he said. "Being out of the Tower."

"We were allowed on the grounds around the Tower," she said, though, it wasn't the same and they both knew it. Anders had told her often that she was the lucky one, she had been old enough to remember freedom. He was wrong. "Where are we headed?"

Duncan hadn't spoken much on their flight away from the Tower. And she still didn't know what was expected from her. Although, anything had to be better than where she had left.

"We are going to Ostagar, near the northern Korcari Wilds, where we will meet up with the King's army." Duncan sat across from her on the other side of their fire. "And hope we are not too late."

"Is there a war?" Nyn had heard nothing about any fighting, but outside news traveled slowly in the Tower; if at all.

"Of sorts," the dark man sighed. "Darkspawn have been gathering in large numbers and are making their way south. They need to be stopped before they reach populated areas."

"I've never heard of Ostagar. Where is it?"

"Where was it? You mean to ask. Ostagar was once the capital of man, until it was destroyed in the final battle during the first Blight, so long ago. And up until the last Blight, it was fortress of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden." Duncan stood and moved away from the fire. "Since then it has been infested with darkspawn. And we have lost much."

"Why now?" She wondered. If they had lain dormant all this time, what made them suddenly move now?

"Indeed," he responded gravely. "Darkspawn have never been seen this far south, not in this age anyway. And these are not raiding parties as we have seen in the past. These darkspawn are gathering. I have never seen them work together like this before. Something more is going on here."

Though, the fire was warm Nyn felt a chill. "You think this is another Blight?"

"I do not think we should wait to find out." Duncan faced her. "I will not lie to you. The battle ahead of us will not be easy. And if you join our ranks it will be even harder. And you may wish I had left you in the Tower before it is done. But, I have said more than I should. Rest. When we reach Ostagar you may not have the chance again."

Nynaeve thought she would never get to sleep after Duncan's words, but she was too exhauseted after the events of the day. Though, her dreams were full of shadowy monsters that she couldn't escape.

The next day was uneventful. Duncan spoke even less, if that was possible, and he didn't answer her questions. Especially when she questioned him on the Grey Wardens. There would be time for that when we arrive, he told her more than once. And that night, there was no rest. Only a brief nap for Nyn after a short dinner and they were on their way again.

The next morning after they reached ruins of the once great city rose up out of the ground like the bones of giant beasts. It felt like a tomb. Though, when she closed her eyes she could almost imagine how it must have looked before.

"I need to check in with the commanders as soon as we enter," Duncan said. "You may investigate the camp if you wish. There is a small group of mages here, you may meet with them if you desire."

Nyn was actually a bit nervous about being left on her own. She felt a bit lost. But she only nodded and gave a brave smile. "A warm bath might be nice." Duncan laughed softly. He was grave, but was not unkind. He was serious, but was not without humor. She had only known him a few days, but she felt as though it had been much longer. In many ways he reminded her of Irving.

"Ho there, Duncan," a man called out. "I feared you were going to miss all the fun."

The stranger broke away from the troop of knights and embraced the gruff Grey Warden. The man was obviously someone of importance. His armor was gold and blinding in the bright sun; and his long hair was almost as golden. He was vaguely familiar to Nynaeve.

"Wouldn't dream of it, your Majesty." Duncan bowed when the blonde man let him go.

Highness! This was the King himself. She recognized King Cailan Theirin now that she knew. Though, the young monarch was even more handsome in person. He was like the handsome king in a fairytale.

"You may already be too late," Cailan said. "The darkspawn charged the gate late last night. They caught us by surprise, though, it was an easy victory. The ones we did not slay, retreated. They may not even return."

"Mmm," Duncan said. "They may have been testing our defenses. I'll want to go over the details of this attack before-"

Cailan waved him away. "You can see Loghain about the tedious details." He frowned. "I think you give the beasts too much credit. They fought as wild animals. There is hardly any challenge to defeating them."

"Disappointed, your Majesty?" Duncan asked disapprovingly.

"I was hoping this may be a Blight. Like the ones the bards sing of. But this will have to do," the King shrugged his massive shoulders. He looked like a little boy to Nynaeve. "I should leave you. Loghain has asked that I rally the troops. Farewell until next we meet."

"Your Majesty," Duncan said troubled. "Be careful out there."

"You worry too much," King Cailan smiled at him and took his leave. His knights falling in behind him.

Nynaeve snorted. "Only a fool would wish for a Blight."

"Try not to judge him too harshly," Duncan said. "His father, Maric, was a great man. It can be difficult to be the son of a hero,though," he sighed. "I agree with you."

"Maybe he's right," Nyn shrugged. "Maybe this isn't a Blight."

"I hope he is." Duncan gestured for her to follow. "I will be in the command center. When you are ready to begin join me there. If you cannot find me, ask for the Grey Warden Alistair. He will be in charge of your recruitment process."

Nynaeve had a feeling the process would be more than paperwork, but had no idea what it would be. "Will I have to sign a blood oath?" She teased.

"There will be blood," he said, "although, hopefully not your own. Go. There is not much time, and we need to do what needs to be done before the battle. You'll get your answers then."

Nyn looked over the camp in interest. There were royal soldiers and mercenaries. Chantry priestesses and mages. The only Templars she saw were guarding the mage tent, she avoided them. And dogs. Everywhere she looked there were dogs. And if she didn't see one, she could hear and smell them.

The people in the camp looked worn out and tired to her. And she saw more than a few wounded. She wondered if the victory the night before had been as easy as the King believed.

Nynaeve followed the way to the command center, it was the largest structure and hard to miss. The ruins suggested it had once been a church. Inside she saw her first darkspawn. Dead, it hung on an eave. It had the shape of a man. Though, the rest was from a nightmare.

"Are you lost, mage?" Startled, Nynaeve turned. The speaker leaned over the command table, a large map spread out before him. He was an older man, perhaps Duncan's age or older, but his hair was still more black than grey and he wore it long with thin braids on the side. He was tall and lanky, but with a size that suggested strength. "Well? Can you speak?" His voice was thickly smooth, and bored.

"I'm looking for the Grey Wardens. Duncan? Or Alistair?" There was something to this stranger that flustered her, although, she couldn't say what it was. He was attractive enough, she supposed, but it was more than that. She wondered if this was the Alistair Duncan told her to seek.

"A new recruit are you?" He came forward and looked her over. He snorted. "A mage... Duncan must be getting desperate." He brushed her face with the back of his finger. "Though, pretty enough I suppose. Perhaps, he grows tired of cold and lonely nights."

She slapped his hand away. "If you touch me again, ser, you will have plenty cold and lonely nights," she said. "In a grave." She had no idea who he was, or what business he had with her, but she definitely did not care for his attitude. The man only grinned.

"You do not fear me." His grey eyes searched hers in amusement. "Do you?"

"I don't even know you," she crossed her arms over her chest.

He laughed deeply. "I don't know, or care, where Duncan is. You can find Alistair up the ramp behind you." She thanked Andraste that he wasn't Alistair himself. She hoped to never see him again.

"Thank you, ser," she curtseyed.

"Don't call me ser." She waited for more but he only returned to his map.

Nyn shrugged and moved toward the ramp. When she turned, the dark haired man was still looking down at the map. She could have sworn she felt his eyes on her. It came to her who, or what, he reminded her of; the demon.

Who in the fade was he?


	9. Chapter 9

Alistair's day had gone from bad to worse. As if the darkspawn trying to break down the gates last night wasn't bad enough, everyone was at each others throats. The knights didn't like the soldiers. And neither trusted the mercenaries. The Chantry and their Templars watched the mages more than the darkspawn. The mages themselves trusted no one. He even saw the King and Loghain fighting before the darkspawn came the night before. No one was happy, and they all blamed the Grey Wardens. And they all seemed to hate him for their own reasons.

Duncan had to come back soon. He wasn't made for this.

Alistair looked up from Duncan's message at the sound of footsteps. He sighed. This one again, what was his name? Fillon? Fenyon? Feyden? Fennon? Maker, he couldn't remember. He had nothing against mages, in general, but this mage especially had it out for him. There was no love lost. Faron! That was his name.

"Enchanter Faron-," he greeted the mage. "Farrol," the mage corrected. "Right," Alistair cleared his throat. "That's what I said. Anyway, the Revered Mother regrets to inform you that she must deny your request for more lyrium."

"We exhausted our supplies in the battle last night. If she expects us to fight in the upcoming battle we must have more." Alistair could see that the mage was frustrated; well, they all were.

"She would remind you that supplies are limited. And that lyrium must be held back to heal the injured." Though, she may not have put it in such polite terms as he.

"She would see us all slaughtered," he argued. "This is an insult." He pointed threateningly. "You tell that woman if she wishes to speak to us she can come to us herself, instead of sending her messenger boy."

Alistair sighed; it was hopeless. "Maybe you should tell her yourself."

"I will not be harassed in this manner."

"Right," Alistair rolled his eyes. "I was harassing _you _by delivering _you _a message."

"I refuse to deal with you any longer, fool." Finally they agreed on something, he thought; it was progress.

"I thought we were getting along so well too. I was even going to give you a nickname," he smiled, "Grumpy." It would be easier to remember than... whatever his name was.

"I will tell the Reverend Mother of this!" He declared and stormed off. Well, at least he had gotten them to talk, Alistair thought. Now he hoped they wouldn't kill each other.

He noticed he wasn't alone. At first he thought she was an old woman because of the white hair, but it was thick and full, and was long over her shoulders. And her face was young, and almost as pale as her face. She was pretty. No, who was he trying to fool, she was beautiful. And she was watching him with a strange look on her face.

"The one thing I love about the Blight, is how it brings us all together."

The strange man moved toward Nynaeve. He was younger than she had supposed, around her own age. He had short blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was handsome, in an arrogant sort of way. She knew his type.

"Do you make a habit of antagonizing people?"

"What can I say? It's a gift," he shrugged. "To know me is to love me."

Nyn snorted. "You are a strange man."

"You see, you just don't know me yet," he smiled. It was a perfect smile; too perfect, she didn't trust him. "Can I help you with something or - you wouldn't happen to be another mage, would you?"

She gestured to her mage robes. "What would give you that idea?"

"Oh... you are...," he stammered embarrassed. "I mean... well... you don't look like a mage."

Nynaeve arched her brow. "And how is a mage supposed to look?"

"You know, pointy hats, warts, and broomsticks," he joked.

"I must have left my hat at the Tower, my broomstick broke down on the way here, and you're mistaken," she smiled. "We don't have warts, we give them."

He laughed. "Remind me not to get on your bad side. I like my nose just the way it is." His nose was actually a little on the long side, she thought.

"Oh, I wouldn't put it there," she said with a straight face. "I was thinking somewhere a little more personal. Somewhere you'd think of me every time you tried to sit."

He laughed harder. It was actually a nice sound. "Wait," he gulped. "You are joking... right?"

"You really don't like mages, do you?"

"No... it isn't that," he sighed. "Mages don't like me. And the Revered Mother knows this, so she uses me to make a point."

"Why don't mages like you?"

"I... well that is... I used to be a Templar."

He was a Templar. Another reason not to like him, not that she needed one. "Funny, you don't look like a Templar," she lightly joked.

"And what is a Templar supposed to look like?"

"First of all your head is all wrong," she answered with a straight face. "Not barrel shaped at all."

"Not...?" At first he was confused, and then he smiled again. "You mean because of the helmet... cute."

"I'm supposed to meet someone here," she said. "A Grey Warden named Alistair."

"Well, you found him," he bowed. "At your service. And you might be..."

"Nynaeve," she answered. "Duncan said to see you about the recruitment process."

"You're here about becoming a Grey Warden?" He frowned in thought. "Right. I think Duncan mentioned you in his message before I was rudely interrupted." He picked up the message and read. "Right. Here you are."

"I see you found Alistair." Nyn turned around. Duncan was coming up, two other men behind him. One was small and dark. The other big and balding. "Now that we are all here, we can begin."

"Ser Jory," he nodded to the big man. "Daveth," he turned to the small man. "And Nynaeve," he gave a small bow. "You three come before us to join the Grey Warden ranks. Before we begin however, you must prove that you are ready."

"You three will enter the Korcari Wilds, there you will encounter darkspawn. Defeat enough to fill three of these vials," Duncan showed them the containers and tossed them to Alistair. "I am not sending you alone. Alistair here will accompany you. You are to listen and obey him as you would me."

"There is one more thing," Duncan continued. "The Grey Wardens of old hide a cache of documents in the last Blight. We need those documents. You will retrieve them for us. I am sure you have many questions, but there isn't much time."

"You're sending us out there," the one named Daveth pointed out. "With those monsters? Are you crazy we'll be slaughtered?"

"You will be near the camp, the King has soldiers patrolling the area," Duncan said. "I cannot guarantee your safety, but you will be as safe as you will."

"Is this a competition? The one who defeats the most darkspawn becomes a Grey Warden?" The one named Jory asked.

"No," Duncan said sternly. "You are to work as a team. I want no one to take any unnecessary risks. Is that understood?" He waited for their agreements. "Good. Anything else? Nynaeve?"

"Nope," she said. "Blood and old documents. Got it."

Duncan smiled. And Alistair chuckled.

"Equip yourself in the armory and meet Alistair at the western gate," he finished.

Nynaeve wondered what in the fade she had gotten herself into. There was an old saying, 'out of the frying pan and into the fire.' Maybe, she thought, she would have been better off staying in the Tower after all.


	10. Chapter 10

The armory was almost completely picked over. Nynaeve compared a wand and a staff. The wand was small and light weight, and was engraved with runes that would add fire to her basic attacks, and also strengthen her own fire spells. The staff on the other hand was heavy and badly balanced, but long enough to fight an enemy that got too close. She ended up taking both.

Jory, the larger of the two men, had his own weapon and armor, but was looking through the other odds and ends. Daveth, the smaller of the two men, was testing out the bows.

"Do you think this is part of our testing?" Daveth asked. "They can't expect us to go into the wilds alone. It's suicide."

"Afraid to face your foe in a fair fight, thief?" Jory asked back.

"There's no such thing as a fair fight, ser knight," Daveth replied. "I level the field, so to speak."

"You, and your ilk, cheat, thief," Jory responded. "And you have no honor."

"Maybe I don't, but neither do those things out there." Daveth turned to Nyn. "You weren't here last night. Those things are demons, they are."

"I've faced a demon and won," she said. "I'm not afraid."

"Humph," Jory snorted. "A thief and a mage. I had not been aware that the Grey Wardens had such low standards."

Nynaeve kept her thoughts to herself, but she had wondered what the thief was doing here. He seemed to have no interest in battling darkspawn. "Why are you here, Davek?"

He gave her a charming smile. "I was caught stealing from Duncan, believe it or not. Couldn't believe my rotten luck. Thought he was just a sell sword down on his luck. A Grey Warden never would've believed it," he told her. "They was going to cut off my hand, they were. Until Duncan came. Gave me the choice. Go with him, or stay there. Wasn't really a choice was it? Rather attached to my hand, I am."

Nynaeve smiled. Daveth was charming, in his own way. She turned to Jory. "And you, ser Jory?"

"I am... was a knight of Redcliffe under the Arl Eamon. Last season I entered the tourney at Highever and won the melee," he told them proudly. "I also won the hand of a fair maiden, a second cousin to the Teyrn. She returned with me to Redcliffe as my wife. It was she who convinced me to join the Grey Wardens. I will make her proud."

"And you left her there?" Daveth asked. "Alone?"

"She is heavy with our first child and cannot travel. Why do you ask?"

"Oh. No reason." Daveth said. "Just if I had a pretty thing waiting for me back home I'd never have left."

"I will send for her as soon as I am able." Jory looked to Nyn. "What of you, mage? What brings you to the Grey Wardens?"

"I come from the Tower," she shrugged. "Not much to tell really." She hated having to lie, but it was much simpler than the truth. "We should get going before it gets dark."

"It's always dark in the wilds," Daveth said. "So I hear."

Nynaeve moved out first. She was determined not to show her nervousness. It wasn't fear. Or so she told herself. "What else have you heard about the wilds, Daveth?"

"My mam used to tell me and my brothers tales about the witches of the wilds," he said. "They mothers, daughters, and sisters who live out here away from men. They take men to give them more daughters, and sacrifice them to their forest gods when they are no longer needed. Boy children too, especially ones who misbehave."

"Especially boys who don't listen to their mams," Nyn said. "Right?" Daveth smiled. "Right," he answered.

Jory snorted. "Childrens tales." So were demons and darkspawns, Nyn remembered.

Alistair met them at the back gate. He looked as nervous as the recruits were. "Right, here you are," he said. "I'll go first, then Jory, next will be you Nynaeve, and lastly Daveth with his bow." Her name sounded nice with his thick Ferelden accent. "There should be an outpost of the king's soldiers along the way, we'll stop there before we continue. Right, no time like the present. Come on."

Their path was empty, of darkspawn and soldiers, and was easy to follow. Even Daveth relaxed. But when they came to the outpost it was quickly apparent something was wrong.

Alistair stopped at the dead, very dead, sentry. "They could still be in camp. Me and Jory will go in heavy. Nynaeve and Daveth, provide cover," he ordered. "And try not to hit us while you're at it."

Nyn was nervously anxious as she gripped the wand tight in her hand. And she was thankful that she wasn't alone. The camp was small and there were not many of them. The darkspawn looked more human than not, but acted like beasts. Jory cut them down with his two handed heavy sword and brutal strength. Alistair used a one handed sword and shield together, and fought with a grace that was almost beautiful to watch.

Daveth started to lob arrows behind her, and she set off a large fire spell in the back row. She then alternated between spells and attacks. It seemed to take forever, but finally the last foe fell.

Alistair begun to collect the darkspawn blood.

Nynaeve moved in, and noticed that Jory's arm had been injured in the fighting. She put her weapon away and approached him. "Give me your arm. I can heal it."

Jory held back. "No. Do not touch me. I will not have your foul magic on me."

Nynaeve was more angry than hurt at his distrust and fear. "Don't be a fool. How will you fight?"

"I will use a healing draught, mage. As the Maker intends."

Alistair cleared his throat. "As a Grey Warden you will be expected to stand with your brothers, and sisters, regardless of their talents," he told the knight. "And we have no time for this. You will allow Nynaeve to heal you, or you can turn back now and tell Duncan you failed."

Jory struggled, and Nyn was worried he may turn back, but he finally consented.

"You can heal me, lady mage," Daveth grinned. "If it will get your lovely hands on me."

"If I put my hands on you," she said, "you'll need a healer, ser thief."

Alistair laughed out. "Well, there's nothing we can do here. We should continue to the-" Nynaeve stopped listening to him, there was a sound somewhere. Sounded like a whine. She headed to the back. There was a cage with a large dog inside. A mabari hound like the ones back at the king's camp.

"Poor guy," Alistair had followed. "He might be infected, we should leave him."

"I'm letting him out," she insisted. She wouldn't, couldn't, leave a caged animal. "Give him a chance, at the least." Alistair didn't stop her as she unhooked the cage. The dog cowered in the back and growled. "Come on, boy," she called. He crept forward and smelled her hand. The beast easily weighed twice her weight, but she held still. He licked her hand, his head snapped up as though he heard something, and he ran off.

When Nynaeve turned she thought she saw pale yellow watching her from the forest, she blinked and they were gone.

"Right," Alistair called out. "Let's keep going."

There was more fighting along the way, but nothing that was too difficult. They were even beginning to work well together as a team. Daveth even started to enjoy himself, and Jory thanked her for aiding him in defeating a foe before it could strike him.

Alistair was no leader, however, he fought well. But without any strategy. And when he gave orders there was a slight delay, he was too unsure of himself.

When they arrived at the old Grey Warden keep, though, it was clear that it would be the hardest battle yet.

"Maybe we should head back," Daveth said. "Tell Duncan about the camp we found."

"I... don't know," Alistair looked back the way they came.

"We can return for the documents after the battle," Jory supplied, even the knight seemed afraid.

Nynaeve snorted. "I swear, I'm the bravest one here. And I'm a mage and a woman," she said. "We'll go around the ruin and attack from the back. I'll hit that group with my fire and Daveth will pick them off. You and Jory will make your stand along that narrow path there and strike them down as they come to you. I'll provide healing as needed."

"That... might work," Alistair looked surprised. "Right. You heard her. Let's do this."

The battle was difficult but in no way impossible. And there were no serious injuries, although, it was a close call when when one foe broke through and headed straight for her. Alistair fell back and slay the creature. His light eyes were wide in fear, she almost remembered another pair of blue eyes, and sweat dripped down his handsome face. She had frozen in fright, too shocked to even thank him and then he was gone again.

"We did it!" Daveth exclaimed and slapped Jory on the back. "Indeed," Jory said. "You did well, th- Daveth."

"We only triumphed because of your plan," Alistair gave her a small smile. "And I'll make sure Duncan knows it." Nynaeve smiled back. She was tired, she hurt in places that she hadn't known she had, and she had almost been killed, but she had never been happier. She belonged here in a way she never had in the Tower. Alistair clapped his hands together. "We don't have the documents yet. Let's go find them and get out of here."

On the way up the stairs, Nyn thought she caught those strange pale eyes again. Were they being followed? At the top of the tower the stairs leading down into the cellar was broken.

"What now?" Daveth asked. Both Daveth and Jory looked to her she noticed. Alistair was looking down. Nyn hadn't a clue. "Perhaps, we can lower someone down?" Jory added. It was a long ways down though, and even if someone could be lowered without injury, they wouldn't be able to return the same way.

"You could grow wings and fly down," a feminine voice called out from the broken window, "if you knew how."

Nynaeve was the closest to the strange woman. She was crouched within the window and wore a black sleeveless thing sewn with black feathers. Her hair as black and soft as the feathers was pulled back from a face that was as beautiful as it was exotic. The creature's, for Nyn couldn't be sure she was human, pale yellow eyes met her own.

"You...," Alistair came forward to stand with Nynaeve. "How did you get up here?"

"Mayhap, I swooped up here on my wings."

"Swooping is bad," Alistair mumbled. The woman giggled. "What are you doing here? This is Grey Warden territory."

"Grey Wardens no longer," she spoke. "This is my tower. And you be scavengers." The woman had an odd way of talking, as though not accustomed to speaking.

"She's a witch of the wilds," Daveth warned, "she is."

"I am, am I?" The creature giggled again. "Mayhap I be. You would like that, man, would you not?"

Nynaeve stepped closer to the woman. "Do you know a way down?"

"I might." The feathered creature slid inside. She glided over to Nynaeve and leaning in close took a smell. "You are a bird like me," she purred. "But you smell of a cage. Did they clip your wings, I wonder."

"Get away from her now, creature," Alistair placed his blade against her pale throat.

"You be nothing," she hissed. "I watched you as you made your way through the wilds, and you three be nothing. If not for this one you would not be here." She regarded Nyn, curiously. "I saw what you did. You freed that beast from its cage. Therefore I will free you from yours."

"Do you know another way down? Or not?" Nynaeve asked. She had no interest in whatever game the woman was playing.

"I do," she stood back with a strange smile.

"Will you take us?"

"I will." Without warning the woman started down the other stairs. "Follow me."

Nynaeve gave Alistair a shrug and followed first. "What is your name?" She asked.

"Names be meaningless," the woman answered. "Animals have no need for them. Only those who walk on two legs."

Nyn sighed. She was tiring of this. "What are you called?"

"I be called Morrigan," she said. "And sometimes I answer."

"I am Nynaeve."

"You be Nynaeve," she said. "Nynaeve be not you."

Alistair laughed and signaled to Nyn that the woman, Morrigan, was crazy. Nynaeve wasn't so sure.

Morrigan led them back outside and around the side. "This will lead you to what you seek." She pointed to a broken wall. Alistair started to move aside fallen stone. Jory moved to help. And Daveth joined them, probably only to get away from Morrigan.

"Thank you for your help, Morrigan." Nyn bowed politely.

Morrigan giggled. "I like you," she said. "I have seen the hordes out there. I have spoken with the animals. This is a battle your men cannot win. Run now while you have the chance. Or die with them."

"That is something I cannot do," Nynaeve said.

"We shall see," Morrigan begun to walk away.

Nynaeve watched her until she couldn't see her anymore, though, she noted the yellow eyes look back once from the forest.

"'I like you,'" Alistair mocked the witch. "Probably would like you in her stew." He motioned behind them. "She was right, though, this does lead to the cellar."

Nynaeve followed quietly behind and wondered what else she had been right about.


	11. Chapter 11

Alistair found Duncan in the command center looking at Loghain's map. Thank Andraste, Loghain himself was not there. Alistair hated that man, and knew he hated him as much. Or more. Duncan looked troubled. "Trouble?"

"Alistair, I didn't know you had returned," the older Grey Warden, his friend, smiled. "Good thing you're back. The King has decided to attack tonight. We don't have much time."

"Tonight?" Alistair asked surprised. "What about Loghain?" He might not like the commander but of the two he was the one with most of the sense, if not reason.

"Unfortunately, on this they both agree," Duncan sighed. "I wish they would at least wait for the Orlesian Wardens to arrive." Alistair had been looking forward to meeting the other Grey Wardens of Orlais. "What of your mission? Did you return with the items I asked for?"

Alistair put the three vials of darkspawn blood on the table, and took a rolled parchment from his pack. Duncan unrolled the document and quickly read it. "What was so important about that document anyway?"

"This," Duncan became even graver, "could be our only chance if we truly face a Blight." He rolled it back up and handed it to Alistair. "I want you to hold on to it." Alistair returned it to his pack. "How did it go with the recruits?"

"Jory handled himself well enough, though, he tends to fight as if he is still dueling in a tourney. One on one he's impressive but against multiple foes he loses his focus," Alistair told. "Daveth is quick with the bow, but needs work on his aim."

"About as I figured," Duncan said. "And Nynaeve? What did you think of our mage?"

What did he think of the mage? She was as brave as she was beautiful. And as clever as she was funny. "She was... impressive. If it hadn't been for her, we probably wouldn't have gotten the document."

"There was trouble?"

"Yeah, the outpost was overrun by darkspawn," he told. "No survivors." It had been a bad scene.

"Loghain will need to be told of this," Duncan said. "Not that it will change his mind. What of the Warden keep?"

"Overrun by darkspawn. I almost turned back," Alistair admitted. He wasn't proud of it. "But Nynaeve took over and we managed to defeat them. She even got Jory and Daveth to work together," he grinned. "By the Maker, I feared the two would kill each other before the darkspawn could."

"Alistair, your orders were to take no chances," Duncan reminded. "We cannot risk losing you."

"I know," Alistair sighed. He knew Duncan meant well, but he was tired of being coddled; he had hoped to prove himself with the mission, but as usual screwed it up. "There's more. There was a strange girl... woman. I think she was a mage. An apostate. Maybe an abomination. She claimed she was a shapeshifter."

"Mmm," Duncan said. "There have always been rumors of magic users among the Wild folk. What did she want?"

"Nothing," Alistair shrugged. "She helped us find the cellar. She talked mostly to Nynaeve."

"Hopefully, she retreated somewhere safe," Duncan said. "It's starting to get dark, we should begin the ceremony before it's too late."

"Now?" Alistair had thought Duncan would wait until after the battle.

"There may not be a chance after."

"I don't like it. It's too soon."

"You like her, don't you?" Duncan guessed.

"I... do."

"I do too."

"I just... I hope she makes it."

"As do I," Duncan agreed. "After the ceremony, I am to meet with the King's command. I want you there."

"I... don't know," Alistair said. "Loghain won't want me there."

"I want you there."

"I don't belong there."

"Alistair," Duncan put his arm around the young Warden. "You are your father's son. And he would have been proud to know you."

"That must be why he never came around."

"He stayed away to protect you, son," Duncan said. "Come, we have business to conduct."

Waiting on Alistair to return Nynaeve yawned. Jory was cleaning his blade. And Daveth was explaining the finer points of thievery and women; they seemed somehow connected in the thief's mind.

Duncan and Alistair walked up the ramp. Duncan was holding a large bowl. And Alistair carried an ornate goblet. Nyn was reminded of the Harrowing.

"Think it's a victory drink for passing their test?" Daveth asked. Nynaeve didn't think so. She had a strong feeling that _this _was the test.

"We are probably expected to make an oath of loyalty," Jory said.

Duncan placed the bowl on one of the broken stones of the ruins. He stood before them. Alistair held the goblet tightly, and stood next to him.

"Before we begin," Duncan said, "I congratulate you all on a successful mission. The reason for the mission was twofold. It is to give you experience as a Grey Warden. It will be a life of danger. If any of you wish to leave, now is your last chance. You will be placed in the king's army. If you stay, know this, the only way out of the Order is death."

There wasn't even a doubt in Nynaeve's mind. She had felt alive out there. This was what she wanted. She expected Daveth to be the one to leave, but he remained.

"So we begin," Duncan told. "I will warn you, to speak of anything that you will see here to someone outside the Order is punishable by death." He drew their attention to the bowl. "This bowl holds the darkspawn blood that you collected. To become Grey Wardens, you must drink of it."

Nynaeve felt numb.

"You wish us to drink _that_?" Jory spoke. "What of the taint?"

"You made your choice, ser Jory," Duncan reminded him, all of them. "Daveth, come join us."

The small thief shrugged. "I'll try anything once," he smiled and winked at Nyn. He joined Duncan. Alistair dipped the goblet into the bowl. "Join us brother. Join us as we stand in the shadows vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And, should you die, know that one day, we, shall join you," Alistair spoke as he brought the goblet to Daveth's lips.

Daveth grinned, and then began to twitch horribly. He screamed. And then fell, silent and still.

Nynaeve felt sick.

"Unfortunately, not every recruit survives the process," Duncan told them. "Jory, you are next."

The big man backed away in fear and disgust. He brought out his blade and pointed it at Duncan. "Do not touch me, you villain. I will not take your poison."

"Is this your final choice, ser knight?"

"It is," Jory answered. Duncan moved and before Nyn knew what had happened, the knight lay bleeding and unmoving at the Warden's feet.

"I am sorry that it came to this," Duncan whispered. "Alistair?"

Alistair knelt by Jory and closed the knight's eyes. "Join us brother. Join us as we stand in the shadows vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And, know that one day, we, shall join you."

"Nynaeve, come and join us," Duncan said.

Nyn knew fear, but more than than being afraid, she was angry. Who in the fade were these people? They were worse than the demon.

She stepped forward.

Alistair stood before her with the goblet, his face was pale in the darkening light. "Join us sister," he spoke weakly. "Join us as we stand in the shadows vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And, should you die, know that one day, we, shall join you." He lifted the goblet toward her lips.

If she had to do this, she was going to do it _her _way. Nyn took it from Alistair's shaking hands, and toasted Duncan. "I'll see you in the fade." She drunk before she lost her will.

And she knew nothing more but blackness.


End file.
